


Dangerous Man

by littlechinesedoll



Series: Cum Dumpster Bruce Wayne [14]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman: Arkham (Video Games)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-22
Updated: 2016-09-22
Packaged: 2018-08-16 17:14:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8110741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlechinesedoll/pseuds/littlechinesedoll
Summary: Anonymous asked: Deathstroke fuck Batman hard and long and fast in a warehouse or Gotham highest tower. After care. Slade is a beast in bed but can be very gentle after that.Anonymous asked: This thing just popped up in my mind after watching that atom bomb aka Deathstroke: Bruce knew that his type is dangerous man: Clark Kent, Athur Curry, Ra's Al Ghul, Hal Jordan and so on. So that's not much surprising when he some how end up facing the floor/wall, his ass is up and being mounted by Deathstroke the TerminatorWarnings are inside and have spoilers for Arkham Knight.“Do you pretend, I’m the Kryptonian, Bruce?” Slade asks.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings and spoilers: 
> 
> \- Scarecrow wasn’t able to unmask Batman.  
> \- Bruce didn’t die at the end.  
> \- Tim doesn’t get shot (and more importantly, is not in a relationship nor is he married to Barbara).  
> \- Gotham’s highest tower is Wayne Tower, and Bruce’s office is in that top floor. I’m going to use the warehouse idea instead, since Bruce’s office was trashed by Dr. Thomas Elliot (Hush). 
> 
> tumblr link: http://cumdumpsterbrucie.tumblr.com/post/150774487776/arkham-games-verse-warnings-are-under-the-cut
> 
> unbeta'd

It’s a routine. Bruce puts him in jail, somehow he gets out, and they let all the frustration out with sex. They aren’t exclusive. Of course they aren’t, why would they be?

What Bruce wants is the fight. The fight, oh how Bruce loves the fight. Fast, hard, rough and graceful at the same time, of thrown punches, jabs, hooks, uppercuts, kicks low and high. The way they pin each other to the wall and to the ground, breaths close and harsh, their hearts thundering in their chests and heated blood flowing through their veins.

He also wants the chase. The sprints over rooftop buildings, boosting into a glide as they run through the city, through its streets and alleys, late in the night.

It’s a rush Bruce is addicted to. The rush of the fight, the chase, and the best rush of all, sex.

And it isn’t just the sex, it’s the type of person it was from. He’s drawn to dangerous men, he knows it.

The warehouse isn’t just a warehouse. It’s one of those with a stash Bruce has ready just in case he gets injured. It’s a safe house disguised as an abandoned warehouse, with the logo of a company long gone. Behind a secret door, there’s a room, with medical supplies, some food, and a mattress on the floor.

There are also packs of condoms and lube.

Packets of lube torn open are littered on the floor, beside orange and gray armor. Bruce’s cowl was on top of a cabinet full of medicine, and his cape thrown onto some crate boxes together with his gloves and armor.

A fistful of Bruce’s hair is pulled back, lifting his hands from the mattress and making him kneel awkwardly, then teeth bite down on his shoulder. He feels a warm tongue lick the shell of his ear.

“God, you’re such a good fuck,” Bruce hear’s Slade’s breathy voice in his ear.

His thighs and hips are beginning to bruise, he can feel it. Every slap of Slade’s hips against his stings now. But he loves it.

Slade grabs a hold of his hands and pulls them back. It looks like it’s straining, and Bruce admits that the position is painful with several grunts. But he doesn’t complain. “Do you pretend, I’m the Kryptonian, Bruce?” he slams back in harder, which makes Bruce cry out in half protest.

Sometimes, Bruce does. He wants Clark to fuck him like this, too.

Slade stops and lets go of Bruce’s wrists. Bruce is grateful for the momentary rest, but Slade grabs his leg, twists him around and pulls him over on top of him. Slade is now on his back on the mattress, smirking up at Bruce.

“Well?” says Slade. “I thought Gotham’s biggest slut would know what to do five seconds ago,”

It’s true, he does know what to do. But being fucked by a super solder isn’t exactly a walk in the park, it’s actually a pretty damn good cardio, and a lot more tiring than running around the city. Besides, Slade’s got pretty good stamina, and Bruce is close.

When Bruce starts to move, Slade gives him a little help and cants up to meet him.

There’s a bulb hanging from the ceiling, casting a bright glow on the center of the room. The sweat glistens as it slowly drips from Bruce’s temple; from his neck, to his shoulders, and to the small of his back. Slade feels pretty goddamn lucky every time he gets the chance to fuck Bruce. It’s like Bruce can’t live without a cock in that sweet ass.

And man, Slade loves to hear the sounds that fill the room–the most erotic sounds he’s ever heard. It’s like a cross between pain and pleasure. Bruce sounds like in pain but he doesn’t complain. He makes sounds, but doesn’t talk much other than saying his name. He never confirms nor denies whatever Slade says, and sometimes, Slade says a lot of derogatory things–the terrible stuff he hears people say about Bruce.

Bruce slams his hips down. “Slade…”

Slade smirks because that’s the first time Bruce spoke. “C’mon, Bruce,” he holds Bruce down in place by grabbing him by the hips. He fucks up into him hard and fast. “Tell me what you want,”

Bruce puts his hands over Slade’s, holding onto them tightly like he wants them off of him. “Fuck me,” Bruce breathes out. “Want you to fuck me—coming..!” for a few seconds, Bruce goes rigid as he comes. White ropes of thick come spurts from his cock, landing on Slade’s stomach and chest.

Slade fucks him through it, and he too comes when Bruce is shaking from the intensity of the orgasm. Bruce lies on top of him, spent, and Slade gently maneuvers him off to set him down on the makeshift bed. “Hey, you okay?” he asks, pulling the blanket over him.

“M’fine,” Bruce grumbles.

Slade shakes his head. Bruce had always been a little shy, and a tough cookie. He gets up and grabs a couple of granola bars from one of the boxes, and two bottles of water. He slides back into the bed and under the sheets. He tears open a pack of the granola and hands Bruce the bar.

“Knowing you, you didn’t have lunch or dinner, so eat that,” he downs the bottle of water, sets aside the bottle, then fixes the pillows for them to lay on. He too tears open a bar and eats it in two bites before discarding the packaging to the floor. He lies down and stares at the ceiling.

Bruce shuffles closer to Slade. The bar is halfway done and it too had already been discarded. Bruce uses Slade’s arm as a pillow. Slade chuckles. Bruce is already asleep.


End file.
